


Up and Away

by hemingwaitaminute



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Burnt Out Former Sidekicks Now Acting As Lone Vigilantes, But They're Gone Now, Gen, Gideon and Rossi were the Superhero Mentors to Hotch and Garcias Sidekick selves, I'm Sorry, Memory Loss, New Superhero is Too Happy-Go-Lucky for the Old Dogs Liking, Past Violence, The MCD does not happen in the story, Vigilantism, it is all in flashbacks, memory problems, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27987138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemingwaitaminute/pseuds/hemingwaitaminute
Summary: Spencer must sense Hotch’s refusal to answer and continues. “If I know I’m able to help, why shouldn’t I?” Spencer says, looking at Hotch expectantly. Hotch almost rolls his eyes.“When I asked you to meet me here, I had hoped for, ideally, something like a mentor or just some fucking advice.” Spencer spits out.“I already gave you all the advice you need. Stop whatever you think you’re trying to do, and go home. Still want a mentor to show you how to do that?” Hotch stands and pulls out his wallet to leave enough bills to cover his unfinished tea and to tip Emily. “Just watch what I do.” He says with more bite than necessary before he leaves the cafe.;;AU where Hotch and Garcia grew up as the sidekicks to two of their city's major superheroes, but now they're adults living in the aftermath of the loss of their mentors. Hotch still carries on the legacy of fighting crime, whether he wants to or not. His vigilantism has become a routine thing until a new superhero shows up looking to help.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Jason Gideon & Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia & Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia & David Rossi, Penelope Garcia & Derek Morgan, possible romantic relationships to come later
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Will this seem ooc? Maybe. Perhaps it is a mess, but it is my mess. 
> 
> Also, everyone is around the same age because, again, it is _my_ mess. My canon now. 
> 
> So Hotch and Garcia were ~10/11 when they became sidekicks and ~15/16 when Rossi and Gideon died (sorry again) and the story takes place while they are in their 20s.

Hotch could remember when this used to be fun. When the feeling of soaring through the air between the towering buildings was nothing more than a game. He used to spend every day hoping he could learn a new trick. He wore his identity as a badge of honor. He relished in all that he could do and any praise he received from his former mentor, Cloak. He would stand over some unconscious thief with a grin on his face. His memories had become hazy over time, but if he focused he could still picture Cloak’s - _Gideon’s_ \- soft expression when he would so clearly look to him for approval. He didn’t focus on that very often. He couldn’t. It took too much effort and time. He needed to keep his sights set forward. 

He’s crouched down on the rooftop he had landed on minutes ago. His hands unconsciously move to his ear to adjust the earpiece Penelope had finally modified. It fits perfectly in his ear, but he isn’t used to it yet, or its ability to amplify his hearing. There is so much sound, so many people going about the mundane routines of their lives before they go home for the night that Hotch is still falling behind as he works to differentiate static from significance. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. There’s a group of friends walking down the street. The last few employees of the Colombian bakery are locking up for the night. All perfectly ordinary. He considers turning in for the night. He has been at this for hours now and nothing substantial has occurred. But he stays where he is. He has a tingling feeling in his fingertips, one he gets whenever something is about to happen. He can’t tell what, but he just knows something is nearby, so he stays vigilant. 

His senses prove right. He’s moved to a roof of a five-story apartment three blocks away and he suddenly picks up on the sound of metal scraping in an anxious and unsure way. Hotch quickly jumps to his feet and follows the noise easily. He stays hidden as he approaches a hooded figure hunched over the driver’s door of a luxury sedan. He waits until he is sure that the person is breaking into the car and not just the owner struggling with their keys even though Hotch’s instinct is already nearly certain. The man almost has the door open as he lifts his head to look around the street. Hotch chuckles and steps closer behind him. 

“You know,” He speaks up, startling the thief. “You should really just take the subway.”

The thief turns around, his entire body fidgety. Whoever he is, he is taller than Hotch but with maybe half the muscle. He’s clearly younger than Hotch, nineteen at the youngest. He is all skin and bone, he turns and he musters the toughest look he can. At least, that’s what Hotch assumes he is doing, but it is difficult for Hotch to find a teenage car thief threatening when he had grown up facing down criminals twice the size with deadly weapons in tow rather than a lock picking kit. As the thief looks at Hotch and it dawns on him who is standing in front of him, Hotch can see his eyes widen almost comically. It’s clear to Hotch by every aspect of his body language that he is about to run. Hotch rolls his eyes and catches the man’s wrist just as he acts on this. Hotch twists his arm behind his back. 

Hotch is ready to speak again, give some superficial threat, no doubt in a bored voice before he hears a sharp scream picked up in his earpiece. It’s only a few blocks away, it’s a young woman, maybe a teenager. She’s fighting back against someone. Hotch shoves the would-be thief away and lets him run away as he darts back into an alley and vaults up a fire escape. 

After a few more hours and a handful of tragedies stopped, Hotch decides to turn in. He darts through the city easily toward his apartment complex. 

Hotch lives on the seventh floor. Penelope lives in the same building on the fourth floor. More often than not Hotch only makes it as far as Penelope’s apartment. He has a key to Penelope’s place just like she has a key to his. It was something they decided early into their residence. Penelope had suggested a shared apartment at first, but she changed her mind almost as quickly as she said it. Hotch enters Penelope’s apartment calmly, not wanting to startle her if she’s home. 

As he makes his way to the couch he removes his mask and his boots. He knows he ought to change out of his costume but he can’t be bothered once he settles into the couch. He doesn’t have any major injuries to tend to anyway.

Having heard him enter, Penelope appears in the living room from the poorly lit hallway. She looks to Hotch with a bored expression before her eyebrows furrow just slightly. 

“I didn’t invite you over. Right?” She asks, genuinely unsure. 

“Nope,” Hotch answers candidly. 

“Then why are you here?” 

“I’m turning in for the night.” 

“Well, sweet dreams,” Penelope says in a saccharine tone, her high-pitched voice dripping with insincerity. “ _If_ you go to sleep in your own apartment.” 

Hotch groans. “Come on, Garcia. I am exhausted. Do you not realize how miserable this job is?” 

“Seriously? I know my memory is shaky at best, but there’s no way my head is making up all those years I literally did the same thing.” 

“It’s worse now.” Hotch laments, keeping his tone level to leave out the factor that being alone is why he thinks patrolling is so terrible. 

“If it’s so bad, you could always get yourself a sidekick,” Penelope suggests, her voice going slightly distant. “Someone to boss around.” She refocuses, clearly trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

“Right.” Hotch rolls his eyes. “Because that would make _everything_ better. Are you trying to make my life harder?”

“If your life is harder will you stop crashing at my place?”

“If anything, I would crash at your place more often. Save me some time from going all the way to the seventh floor when I’m fucking exhausted from training some brat.” Hotch explains with a smirk. He stands up from the couch and pats Penelope on the head as he passes by and heads for the bathroom to take a shower.

Hotch knows he shouldn’t use up all of Penelope’s hot water. But he has this ache blooming in his lower back that really needs scalding hot water. And the longer he stands in the shower the more areas of his body start screaming out for relief from the tension built up from his night out working. It was always too easy for his mind to drift as he stood under the spray. He shifts so the water is hitting him directly in between his shoulder blades, and his thoughts languidly shift from fuzzy and shapeless to sharp images from his time out patrolling. He thinks back on each encounter and every action he took. Things he did well and things that need an improved execution. Punches that landed not quite as he intended from poorly anticipating his opponents. He keeps thinking more and more; he imagines that voice from years ago giving him pointers. Only, no advice comes. Hotch didn’t have his hopes up. He’d be stupid to think he could actually channel Gideon. Hotch shakes his head and finally shuts the water off. The stream had lost its burn minutes ago and had been steadily dropping in temperature. Hotch dries himself off and exits the bathroom.

He shuffles into Penelope’s bedroom and finds a clean pair of sweatpants from the highest drawer of her dresser. Just tall enough to be an inconvenience for her, making it the perfect place for him to stash some of his own clothes. The shirt he pulls out has a stain on it that he can’t quite identify, but he can’t be bothered. He is only planning to wear them until he makes his way to his own apartment anyway. 

Since Penelope wasn’t in her room, Hotch assumes she is still up and about. He returns to the living room, about to tell his friend to turn on the TV. But instead, he finds Penelope sleeping, curled tightly into a ball on the couch cushion. Hotch shakes his head and lets out a small sigh. Giving up on watching TV, he heads for the kitchen. The electronic clock on the stovetop tells him it is nearly six in the morning. But right above the stovetop, there’s a sticky note shaped like a cartoon character Hotch doesn’t recognize reading ‘one hour fast!’ with an arrow drawn to indicate its subject. Hotch chuckles to himself as he notices the sticky note little ways to the right from this one with ‘until spring!!’ written with the date it was stuck to the wall as well as the date for the next Daylight Savings clock reset. 

Hotch looks around the kitchen for something to eat and he notices that most of the kitchen looks nearly untouched compared to the last time he had swiped some food out of Penelope’s pantry. And if Hotch recalls correctly, that was almost two weeks ago. There are a handful of granola bar wrappers littered on the counter that seemed new to Hotch, but most of them still had a quarter or more left of uneaten fruit, nuts, and granola. He sighs and gathers all that he could find to make a sandwich. 

The bread might be a little stale, but it is mold-free, so no harm, no foul. He doesn’t trust the meat replacement, whatever it is, that he finds in the fridge. He wants to make a grilled cheese but this sandwich isn't going to be eaten right away and needs to keep. Plus, the cheese is probably as trustworthy as the not-meat. He digs some peanut butter out of the cupboard and checks its expiration date, still good into the next year. Lastly, he searches for some jelly in Penelope’s fridge. He finds strawberry. He, personally, prefers grape, but he is too tired to make a big deal about it. The sandwich is not for him anyway. 

He puts together a relatively sloppy peanut butter and jelly sandwich, wraps it in plastic wrap, and places it eye-level inside the fridge. He then grabs one of Penelope’s many, many pads of colorful sticky notes and writes a note explaining that he made a sandwich for her. Well, he actually wrote ‘P, you have to eat. No arguments. Open the fridge.’ with a heart before marking it with the day’s date so Penelope will know if the sandwich is still good to eat when she finds it. He sticks the note on the fridge’s handle. 

With that, Hotch finally lets himself feel the crushing weight of his exhaustion and he gathers his costume to hold under his arm and trudges out of the apartment, stopping only to readjust the blanket hanging off of Penelope so that it is totally covering her, to take the quasi-reliable elevator to the seventh floor and sleep in his own apartment. 

Hotch’s apartment is always cold. In more than just temperature. Not that Penelope’s gets any better heating. But, to Hotch, his place just always feels so much colder than Penelope’s. Penelope’s sticky note reminders, knick-knacks, and little projects left unfinished, while strange, are the only things in Hotch’s life that could come close to being considered homey or comforting. But only comforting in that they are constantly present. If he thinks about how some of these mannerisms and quirks of Penelope’s came about for too long, Hotch is anything but relaxed. 

Hotch only keeps the bare essentials. As a kid, he would always leave his room in a disastrous state. The floor would be littered with toys and gadgets and training materials. His walls had been plastered with drawings of superhero costumes and childishly impossible designs for weapons, vehicles, and secret hideouts. As a teenager he got rid of the drawings and the toys and filled bookshelves with textbooks and binders of legitimate designs and plans, his desk was scattered with notes that he would take in an attempt to catch up to Penelope’s understanding of nanotechnology and all things cybernetic. And as talented as Hotch worked to become, he knew he never even broke the surface in comparison to Penelope’s natural talent. But that was all back when Hotch lived with Gideon. Back before he and Penelope really grew up. So now Hotch’s apartment walls are bare, all of his old binders and textbooks are stuffed into a closet, and the only thing sitting on his desk is his laptop and a handful of receipts. 

Hotch does his best to push those memories out of his head as he stows his costume away and burrows into his bedsheets. The ache in his lower back ebbs back into the forefront of his mind and he groans, knowing that it won't be going away anytime soon. 

;;

Hotch is always tempted to sleep past noon. It isn’t like he has a job; he had inherited enough to get by for a long time. He had picked up jobs throughout the years but he never stuck around for more than a few paychecks. Almost every morning he cycles through the same thought process. He could stay in bed; there is no harm in skipping one day. But every time he knows that if he does give in and spend the day in bed, he will break and his routine will be lost. He still has responsibilities. He knows that even though the things he gets done during the day are small, he needs to do them. He needs to stick to his plans. 

He starts with tidying his bed, moving slowly. That kink in his back is still there and may have spread to his neck as well. Hotch makes a mental note to add buying more Tylenol to his list of tasks for the day. Next, Hotch heads to his kitchen for breakfast. He forgot to find himself something to eat after making that sandwich for Penelope the night before, so he pulls out a little more than usual. He doesn’t have much of an appetite but he makes himself finish. 

His main goal for the day is laundry. His and Penelope’s. Hotch spends a good amount of time making sure that Penelope stays afloat and doesn’t overlook basic tasks and responsibilities. Between the two of them, there is never really too much to wash, though. Penelope almost never goes out so she only wears a handful of outfits. Hotch loops around his apartment twice to collect any stray article of clothing, and to kill time, before leaving for Penelope’s place. 

When he enters Penelope’s, Hotch is surprised to find that Penelope is not still asleep on the couch where Hotch left her hours ago. Hotch’s first instinct is to check in her bedroom, figuring she woke up and moved to continue sleeping in her bed rather than on the couch. Hotch checks the bedroom and he does find his friend, but instead of seeing Penelope in bed, she is sitting at her desk. 

This is not odd, exactly. Penelope often busies herself with projects and experiments, both electronic and needlepoint, but she never works in the morning. Hotch stands at the door silently, not wanting to risk interrupting any potential train of thought Penelope is working through as she tinkers with something Hotch can’t see. 

When he hears Penelope mumbling curse words under her breath in frustration, he finally raps his knuckles against the vacant door frame. Penelope seems to startle slightly but her body language is relaxed as she turns to greet Hotch.

“You’re here to kill me?” She asks.

“I’m here to do laundry,” Hotch corrects her, nodding his head toward the laundry basket he has resting on his hip. 

“Damn.” Penelope mumbles. “What time is it?”

“‘Bout eleven. Why are you wearing an overcoat?” Hotch eyes the bright pink jacket.

“Hm?” Penelope raises her eyebrows as if he is unaware of her clothing. “Oh, yeah. I needed some smaller screws and uh, a new set of pliers.”

“You went out? How long have you been up?” Hotch sets his laundry basket on Penelope’s bed and wanders over to the desk to get a better look at whatever gadget she had been working on. Hotch has no idea what it is supposed to be. 

“What time did you leave after showering here?” 

“A little after five,” Hotch speaks slowly, hoping that this doesn’t mean Penelope had been awake and working for six hours. 

“Uh, I dunno…” Penelope glances down at the tool in her hands, rubbing her thumb back and forth over the plastic casing as a thoughtful but confused expression takes over her face. “Sorry. I, um, yeah, I-I don’t know.” She says in a choppy voice, not meeting Hotch’s eye line. 

Hotch sighs silently, stopping himself from asking further questions. “Well how about you get some sleep now, hm? I’ll just get any laundry needin’ some washing up and I’ll be out of your hair.” Hotch offers, finally examining Penelope’s face with greater concentration. The circles under her eyes had gotten darker like they do when she stays up for days at a time. Hotch would overlook skipping one full night's sleep every once and a while; lord knows he was guilty of the same thing. But he has no idea when it last was that Penelope slept a solid eight hours. 

“No, I’ll come with you,” Penelope says, standing. 

“Penelope, no. You’ve been up for too long.” Hotch moves to block the doorway fully. “You need to sleep.” 

“No, no, we both could use the company.” Penelope begins to bustle around her room, tidying things up with no real pattern. She grabs dirty clothes off of the floor and throws an old afghan over her desk chair. “Besides, I can’t let you do all the work. You’ll never let me forget it.” She chuckles humorlessly. 

Hotch just stares at his friend, too distracted by Penelope’s self-deprecating joke to stop her from leaving the room. 

He follows Penelope into the living room. Penelope was still carrying his dirty laundry rather than adding it to Hotch’s basket. 

“Penelope. I’m serious. You need to sleep.” Hotch grabs the clothes out of Penelope’s hands. “I don’t care if it means I do laundry by myself. You have been up for too long.” 

“Hotch, come on,” Penelope starts before Hotch speaks over her.

“No. I’m sorry, but you can’t avoid this for much longer. If you’re gonna put sleep off for something, make it food. How about that? I’m not even gonna bother asking when the last time you ate was.” Hotch is close to shouting in all his frustration. 

Penelope looks down at her feet. “This morning I- After you left there was-” Penelope exhales aggressively through her nose. “Whatever, then I ate the sandwich, okay… thanks.” 

Hotch feels his expression soften. “You’re welcome. I know I sound like a bit of a hard ass, but you and I need to keep each other in line.”

“Yeah yeah,” Penelope mumbled. “Just go do my chores for me.” She made her way toward her bedroom.

;;

Hotch honestly hates going to the laundromat. The one closest to his apartment is all but boarded shut. Half of its dryers don't work and the other half could barely handle a full load of laundry. So Hotch travels to the next closest laundromat. 

It is in a nice neighborhood, full of other small storefronts. There is never too much foot traffic, and it always provides Hotch with enough options to add some variation in his weekly trek here. Usually, while his laundry is being washed, Hotch kills time by walking to the small bakery across the street. Today, Hotch opts for a food truck parked by the curb. Once he has a sandwich and a bottle of water, he heads further down the road and he finds himself standing in front of a record shop he’s never noticed before. The lettering _Blackbird Books_ painted on the front window looks freshly done, and there is a sign hanging on the door declaring the store to be open. Hotch smiles slightly and enters on a whim. 

There are more patrons roaming the cozy space than expected. This hole in the wall place seems awfully popular for being so new. But, Hotch supposes he can see the appeal. The store has sections denoted as housing various merchandise from books to music to film, each section separated between new arrivals and secondhand. There is even a lounge area in the back with a group of friends talking amongst each other. 

Just to the left of the entrance/exit, on a countertop, is a record player with a song playing that Hotch doesn’t recognize. Besides the record player, there is a cash register with a cashier eagerly chatting with his customer about vintage something. Hotch stops himself from listening closer and observing them further, having to remind himself he is not on duty. Right now, he is just another regular citizen. He does not need to gather intel. 

Hotch spares the cashier one last glance before turning his gaze back to the boxes of records. The music doesn’t seem to be organized with any sort of system, at least none that Hotch can come up with. There’s no connection between genre, time, or even title or artist name from record to record. It drives Hotch mad. His whole life he has been building his ability to find patterns and derive information from them. It was a skill he could always rely on, only to be thwarted by some hipster shop owner. 

But Hotch is not here to find anything in particular, so he just starts to browse records. His fingers sift from sleeve to sleeve quickly, his eyes moving from title to title without much care. He notices a few artists that he enjoys and almost stops to pick the records up and examine them, but he stops himself with the fact that he does not own a record player. He is just here to kill time. 

He checks the time on his phone and decides he still has time before he ought to leave and return to the laundromat. He lazily moves another record aside and the one behind it catches his eye. 

It almost makes him laugh when he sees the Spice Girls’ first album sandwiched between Devo and a collection of Christmas songs sung by the Rat Pack. He goes so far as to pick the album up and flip it over in his hands. 

\---  
 _Aaron’s legs were getting stiff. He didn’t get why Gideon had insisted he keep out of sight. It wasn’t like they were facing something that serious. It was just some villain holding up a department store; it was child’s play. It didn’t even take ten minutes to neutralize the lookouts and the cronies keeping an eye on the hostages. Now all that was left was the leader of the whole ordeal._

_He called himself Phantom. He had hit multiple department stores, warehouses, and banks across the country over the past six months. He always picked up a group of thugs in whichever city he was in to help him before dropping them in favor of an entirely new crew in the next. He was almost caught on the west coast by Gideon’s friend Prowess - Aaron really only knew her as Elle - but he managed to escape. Prowess was only able to catch one of his henchmen, and luckily he was willing to turn state’s witness, revealing Phantom’s methods and habits._

_Phantom was standing at the store’s safe, having just emptied its contents into a rucksack. Aaron couldn’t get a perfect view of what he looked like since the store’s fluorescent lights were still off, but he still got a good summary of the man’s size and shape._

_Gideon was standing opposite of the man, blocking his exit and waiting for him to turn around. Aaron watched eagerly from the rafters of the store. The criminal hefted his rucksack onto his shoulders and turned around._

_Getting a better view of his face, or what was visible through the man’s grey mask, Aaron noticed him almost lose his composure when he saw Gideon standing in his way. The guy’s face contorted into a snarl._

_“So who are you supposed to be?” He growled._

_Gideon did not answer. He was still examining the man, and it clearly made Phantom uneasy. Of course, he knew who Cloak was. The whole city knew about him and what he did. Aaron watched as an ever-so-slightly shaking hand inched back toward his hip; he had a gun._

_Gideon noticed this as well and smirked and inclined his head just enough for Aaron to catch it as a signal for him to interfere. Finally, something for him to do._

_Aaron shifted and glanced at the rafters, finding the perfect spots to move to. He leaped silently from beam to beam, letting out taunting laughs as he moved through the air, low but still loud enough for the perp to hear him. The vacant space in the ceiling allowed for his laughter to echo, making it, even more, haunting for the man below._

_“What the hell?” He shouted, his eyes darting all over the place as he frantically searched the ceiling for whoever was laughing. Aaron laughed even more._

_“Who is he supposed to be? You can’t be serious. We could ask you the same thing!”_

_“I am Phantom! The whole country knows who I am!”_

_Aaron laughed again, it took almost nothing to get under the man’s skin. “Phantom? What are you doing here then? Shouldn’t you be haunting an opera? Singing about your feelings?”_

_Phantom was still scanning the ceiling, trying to figure out where Aaron was berating him from. Gideon was ready to strike._

_But before Gideon made his move, the criminal whipped out the gun he had in the waistband of his pants and he pointed it aimlessly from the last direction the sound of Aaron’s laugh had come from. Gideon’s expression steeled and he took a step forward but that caused the man to point the gun at his chest._

_“Don’t come any closer!” Phantom shouted and cocked his gun, but Aaron focused on the tremor still showing in his hands and laughed again. That distracted him. The gun was once again trained on wherever he thought Aaron was hiding in the rafters. “That’s your little brat up there, isn’t it? Dagger? Come any closer, and I’ll shoot him!” He threatened, wanting a reaction from Gideon to exploit._

_Aaron did not appreciate being called a brat, but he’d heard worse from more threatening foes. He laughed again, jumping to a beam even closer to the man._

_“Shut up!” The villain all but roared, and Aaron laughed again but this time he was drowned out by the sound of his gun firing. Aaron was just about to land on another beam but he was thrown off his path when a burning pain ripped through his left shoulder._

_He still landed, gripping the beam with his right hand. It was ten times harder than it should have been, but he hefted himself on top of the beam quickly, narrowly dodging another bullet. He stayed motionless on the beam, gripping the wound on his arm, calming his breathing as his heartbeat and the adrenaline in his system skyrocketed._

_He could hear Gideon’s movements as he darted across the room and subdued Phantom. There were two more gunshots but Aaron had to be optimistic and think neither hit Gideon._

_After what sounded like the rucksack and the gun sliding across the floor, Aaron began to laugh again. His vision was going fuzzy from blood loss but he couldn't help himself from taunting the failed robber, so he laughed wetly and continued as the man shouted every obscenity in the book from wherever he was being held down._

_The sounds of heavy boots marching in marked the arrival of the authorities and Aaron heard one begin to talk to Gideon, trying and failing to get a statement out of the mysterious Cloak, before he appeared on the beam next to him. His face was unreadable as ever as he lifted Aaron from the cold metal rafter and carried him away._

_Aaron kept quiet as Gideon brought him home and laid him on a sterilized table to begin tending to his shoulder._

_“So how’d you take him down?” Aaron asked. He’d grown uncomfortable in the silence and was beginning to worry Gideon was angrier than he originally thought._

_“Don't worry about that right now,” Was all he said as he deposited shrapnel into a dish._

_“Don’t tell me you let the police apprehend him, they’re gonna take all the credit!” Aaron whined._

_“Let them,” Gideon answered absent-mindedly, more focused on the task at hand than carrying a conversation._

_Minutes passed and the only sounds Hotch could pick up were his own breathing and the soft ‘clink’ whenever Gideon set one of his metal instruments down on the tray next to him. The silence just made the subtle pain radiating from Aaron’s shoulder more prominent to him._

_“You need to work on your bedside manner,” Aaron spoke up again, sick of the silence. “Are you even a real doctor?” He asked in an accusatory voice._

_“And you need to relax. You’ve been rigid this entire time.”_

_“Well can you blame me? Some guy without a medical license is trying to operate on me!”_

_Gideon rolled his eyes, Aaron considered it a win. “I’m serious. I’ve removed all that was left of the bullet and I need you calm as I stitch this up.”_

_Aaron sighed, doing his best to listen. “Fine, but enough with the silence, it's freaking me out. Put on some music or something to distract me.”_

_Gideon narrowed his eyes. Aaron almost gave a snarky comment in return but thought better of it when Gideon moved to get up and cross the room so he could turn on the small radio sitting on the desk. The station it was tuned into was playing an advertisement as Gideon returned to his chair._

_“There. Now stop talking, and relax.”_

_Aaron took a deep breath and nodded, bracing himself._

_Gideon had only just started stitching up Aaron’s arm when the advertisement ended and a song began. Gideon nearly startled as Scary Spice and Ginger Spice chanted about what they really really want. Aaron burst out laughing. The corner of Gideon‘s mouth quirked up._

_“Stop laughing. You’re still bleeding.”_

_“So tell me what you want,” Hotch murmured but stopped when he felt Gideon get to work on his wound._

\---

Hotch snaps out of his reverie with a dull pain surging through his left shoulder. 

He glances at the clock on the wall. It’s made from an old vinyl record, and he rolls his eyes because of course it is. He quickly slides the record in his hand back into the box he is standing in front of. He doesn’t spare the cashier or any of the other patrons a glance as he exits the shop and walks back down the street to the laundromat. He’s had enough of being out in public as a regular citizen. 

He races through getting his laundry finished and goes home with no other stops. 

When he enters Penelope’s apartment, his chest feels tight. He almost drops the laundry basket, but he catches it as Penelope enters the room. 

“Dude, you alright?” Penelope speaks up and Hotch realizes he hasn’t moved, he has just been staring straight ahead. 

“I don’t know,” Hotch answers honestly. 

“Did something happen at the laundromat?”

“Well, no. Not at the laundromat, but… while I was waiting, I went down the street to this new shop and in there, I saw… I started thinking about Gideon.” He moves to set the laundry basket on the coffee table and sit on the couch. 

“Oh shit,” Is all Penelope says.

“No, no, it wasn’t bad… I mean, it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible. I had almost forgotten it, honestly.” 

“It?” 

“Yeah, something in that store, it reminded me of a specific memory. Any chance you remember when I got shot?” Hotch absentmindedly rubs his left shoulder. “I wanna say when we were thirteen,” 

Penelope’s response is silence, clearly taking her time to figure out if she did, in fact, remember. 

“Vaguely,” Penelope murmurs. “Tell me about it?” 

Hotch smiles and starts his story from the beginning, explaining how he and Gideon had been tracking a group of robbers.


	2. Chapter 2

“I think I’m gonna run to the corner store, do you want anything?” Spencer finishes counting the contents of the register’s till and moving the money into the store’s safe. 

“Eh, some beer? I think we’re out.” JJ answers distractedly from where she is reorganizing books that have been moved around by browsing patrons. 

“That all?” 

“Cheetos?”

Spencer huffs out a laugh. “Fine. See ya in twenty.” He hefts his bag onto his shoulder and exits the shop. 

Spencer knows he lives and works in a safe neighborhood; almost nothing ever happens. But he moved here from Las Vegas. He liked to think his mother instilled him with a healthy sense of caution. And he could still recall most of the news stories and rumors spread by older kids at school or gruesome deeds going on in the world. So, for his own peace of mind, he always takes the same, safe route to the corner store four blocks away. 

When he gets a feeling that someone is watching him he tries to shrug it off as his overactive imagination. He reminds himself of statistics of crime rates decreasing just before he is grabbed and shoved into an alleyway half a block away from the store. 

Spencer barely processes all that's going on. He can tell that his attacker is bigger than him. He sees an angry set of eyes and he feels his throat dry out as the blade of a knife is pressed against it. His heart begins the beat so violently, he cannot hear whatever demand the mugger makes, all he can hear is his own blood rushing to the pounding of his pulse.

He assumes he is imagining mocking laughter echoing in the alley until he processes that the mugger is hearing it too. The man looks around him, he growls something unintelligible, but he doesn’t move his hand from pressing the knife to Spencer’s neck. 

“That a friend of yours?” The mugger asks, his tone threatening. 

Spencer shakes his head as much as he can, considering the knife, he tries to utter the word no, but it doesn’t reach his lips. 

There’s a clanging noise, like something being dropped onto a metal grate. But really, the only thing Spencer can register is the pressure against his jugular lightening just barely. He panics and his arms move before his brain can stop them. He pushes at the man’s shoulders, hoping he can distance himself enough and make a break for it. Except, adrenaline is racing through his system and his shove is more aggressive than he planned it to be. 

The mugger is thrown backward and hits the opposite wall of the alley. Spencer is just about to jar himself into moving, but before he can another figure appears in the alley.

This man is not as large as the mugger. He’s only barely taller than Spencer. He’s dressed all in black. Once Spencer forces himself to calm down, he notices that this new man’s face is obscured, and not by the shadows of the alley. He’s wearing a mask covering the top half of his face. And he is wearing a hood but it’s not connected to a baggy sweatshirt; it’s part of his all-black ensemble. There’s a silver emblem near the man’s shoulder, just above his heart.

“How the hell did you do that?” He asks Spencer. 

Spencer is thrown by his voice. It is softer than he expected. He isn’t sure why he expected a voice like the mugger’s to come from this smaller man.

“Oh my god, you’re Dagger.” Spencer blurts out. “Like, _the_ Dagger!” 

Dagger does not react to Spencer deducing his identity. Or, at least his mask prevents Spencer from seeing a reaction. 

“I asked you a question.” 

“What? Sorry, I…”

Spencer is caught off, distracted by the groans of the man lying on the ground as he came to. Spencer tenses.

“You’re useless.” Dagger states, clearly annoyed. 

“Wait, no. You didn’t-” Spencer starts but stops when Dagger turns away from him. 

Spencer watches, dumbfounded, as Dagger hefts the man onto his shoulders. He clearly has some struggle given how much larger the mugger is, but he still manages to carry him out to the street and set him next to a bike rack and secure his wrist to it. “If I were you, kid, I would get moving. I doubt you could pull off another move like that if some other mugger catches you lingering in an alley.” 

“Seriously! Wait!” Spencer tries again. 

“Go home,” Dagger says before he leaps up onto the fire escape, somersaulting up through the alley, disappearing onto the roof of the shorter of the two buildings. 

“Shit,” Spencer mumbles to himself before he resumes his walk to the corner store.

;;

Patrolling alone has never been something Hotch has had particularly fond feelings toward. Granted, he was ecstatic the first time Gideon had suggested they split up and patrol separately to cover more ground, but Hotch was fifteen and liked the fact that his mentor trusted him enough to think he did not need supervision.

Now Hotch is twenty-five and patrolling sucks. He couldn’t think of a better way to put it. Patrolling did not deserve a clever explanation for his dislike. 

Tonight has Hotch in an especially poor mood. He is functioning on less than four hours of sleep. He did not have a stellar track record of keeping a healthy sleep schedule, but the previous night was worse than usual. 

\---

_Hotch had been asleep in his own apartment. It was Saturday, his off day of sorts. He allowed himself to not do any sort of chores on Saturdays. He broke his little routine just for the one day of the week, so in a way, it was still routine._

_He had stayed up late the night before and decided to take a nap around three in the afternoon._

_Close to five, he was woken up by the continual buzzing of his silenced cell phone vibrating on his nightstand. He would have ignored it if it weren’t for the fact that Penelope was the only person who calls him._

_“H’llo?” He mumbled into his phone, still in the process of waking up._

_“....” For a moment, all Hotch could hear was someone breathing far away from the phone speaker. “Ho..? Aaron?” Penelope’s voice was barely there._

_“Yeah? Penelope, what’s up?” Sometimes Penelope would call him just so she could talk out loud and get some feedback for the ideas she was juggling for whatever trinket she was working on. And she would always start with a fanciful greeting. Never just Hotch’s name._

_“Aaron? Where is- I don’t! I-I forgot!” Penelope rambled out, never completing a sentence. Her breathing was short, Hotch didn’t know what was wrong, but he knew he needed to get Penelope to calm down._

_“Penelope?” Hotch spoke, keeping his voice clear, low, and calm. “Penelope, tell me what you’ve done today,” Hotch suggested. He hoped that if he could distract his friend it would help. As he waited for her response he started to get out of bed and pull his shoes on._

_“I was… uh,” Penelope trailed off, Hotch waited patiently, he locked his door and walked to the stairwell. “I went to some store… because… what did I need? I was out of something so I went out… And downtown y’know there was this thing, people were doing s-something. I didn’t know what, and I-I felt out of place. So I left and I came back here to look it up” Hotch stayed quiet, he could hear Penelope’s tone had shifted part way through so that she was more focused on telling her story than whatever had panicked her. But it drifted back and Penelope was sounding more unsure and anxious than before._

_Hotch reached Penelope’s apartment and used his key to walk inside, still listening to Penelope on his cell phone._

_“Because people post shit about whatever is happening around town, right? Like the news reports on it, right?” Penelope was half mumbling, but Hotch was still impressed with how much detail she was incorporating for her retelling. “I really didn't know what to search, though.” Before Penelope could carry on, Hotch found her in her bedroom._

_She was sitting on the floor, leaning against her bed. She looked pale and small, clutching her cell phone in her hand. She looked up from where she had been staring at her wall and met Hotch’s eye line. Hotch could immediately tell it had been a couple of days since Penelope had showered or found the initiative for any simple self-care._

_After pressing the small red circle on his phone screen, Hotch moved to sit down next to Penelope. “Finish your story.” He urged gently._

_Penelope nodded, her head jerking up and down quickly. She looked back at the wall as she spoke. “A-at the moment, it-it all went fuzzy. I couldn’t think of what to search. I gave up and just… I just…_

_“I thought, maybe I imagined whatever was going on downtown. Maybe everyone was just doing normal shit and I haven't been outside in so long I forgot what an ordinary day looks like.”_

_“Penelope, if you want to go out more during the day, we can-”_

_“I didn't imagine it, Hotch!” Penelope snapped, cutting Hotch off. “I know I didn't, because-bec-because when I couldn't think of what to google… I pulled up today’s date. Maybe today was a holiday that I, you know, forgot.” Penelope said the last word with a bitter smile, her voice taunting. Hotch frowned._

_“Aaron, what’s today’s date?” Penelope whispered._

_Hotch stopped to think for a second. “It’s… It's November tenth.” He said quietly as it dawned on him what was really bothering Penelope. Hotch knew it was wrong of him to just try and ignore this day each passing year, but he has been doing it for so long now, it hadn't occurred to him what goes on this day outside of his own routine._

_“I forgot, Aaron! I forgot Dave! I-I-I didn't remember today!” Penelope shouted. “Of all the fucking things,” Penelope groaned and dropped his head into his hands._

_“I went out and people were mourning him. They had vigils! And they never even knew him! They just knew Engine! And they don’t even_ know _that he’s dead! It’s just a rumor to them! There’s no proof. But they-! They remembered, and I forgot! I just let him slip away! I wasn't there! I couldn’t-'' Penelope choked, unable to get her words out past her sobs. She was getting hysterical, Hotch quickly wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry._

_Hotch had stayed at Penelope’s for hours after that; he did not want to leave his friend, his sister, alone. And Penelope was too stressed out to fall asleep, so Hotch stayed up with her until she felt ready to be alone._

\---

With his earpiece, he picks up the sound of a can of spray paint being shaken. Hotch laments to himself about the fact that he used to spend his nights taking down the city’s top supervillains and serious criminal organizations, and here he is now, preparing to stop some delinquent kid from vandalizing the sidewall of a deli. 

He has half a mind to just let the kid be. Vandalism could be a pretty shitty thing to do, but it wasn’t violent. However, Hotch needs to keep to his regular protocol. At least if he scared the kid off he wouldn’t run the risk of getting caught by some cop who’s having a bad day and wants to take it out on a juvenile. He silently moves to the rooftop of the deli, readying himself to drop down and scare the kid. Just scare him off, nothing more. 

Before he can, he hears something in his earpiece. Someone is approaching, too quietly to hear without the aid of the device. Whoever they are their plan is to catch their target by surprise. But they aren’t approaching Hotch. Their target is the vandal. Hotch decides to stay hidden and watch. It’s a man, taller than Hotch but not bigger. There’s no buzzing in the earpiece to indicate the various tech carried by a police officer. He’s lithe and not exactly threatening. He’s got a suit on. It looks similar to Hotch’s own. It’s form-fitting and durable by the looks of it, but Hotch can tell it isn’t nearly up to par with his. Call him a snob, but he has been in this game for most of his life and he knows a good super-suit from a shoddy rush job. 

The man approaches the teenager where he is squatting to add details to his tag, but he isn’t as stealthy as he needs to be. His footsteps are just clunky enough that the kid recognizes there is someone behind him. Hotch notices his body language, he tenses, his hand slowly reaches for the bag by his feet. He’s going to run. 

A moment later the kid drops the can that is in his hand, grabs his bag, and slings it over his shoulder before he’s darting down the street. 

“Hey!” The man shouts, but to Hotch, it sounds like whining. 

Hotch can tell that the guy is debating chasing the vandal, but Hotch stops him. He drops down from the roof, landing in front of the stranger. He has to stop himself from smirking as the man jumps back. 

“What the hell?” he half-yelps.

“That's my line,” Hotch replies, letting himself smirk now. 

“You're just gonna let him run?” This man is crowding into Hotch’s space. This is unexpected to Hotch, few people have ever gotten this close to him and almost intimidated him. But the feeling is easy to shake off. 

“He’s a high schooler with some spray paint. If you're really so concerned with ‘getting him off the streets’, just take a look at this tag and use it to track him down.” 

“That's it? That's all you're going to do?” He is clearly angry, but trying to reign himself in, Hotch isn't sure why. 

“Well, I had meant to stop him. Until you came along and scared him off.” 

“I almost-” 

“Please, the kid knew you were behind him before you even took a step! You won't be catching anyone by surprise with an approach like that.” Hotch cuts him off. “Look, you clearly have good intentions, but that doesn’t mean any bright-eyed kid in a mask can walk around town at night and call himself a hero.”

Hotch steps closer, invading the other man’s personal space. “Do the city, and more importantly yourself, a favor and stop whatever you think you’re trying to accomplish here. Just go home.” Hotch adds, keeping his voice low and firm to communicate just how serious he is before he leaps up the side of the deli and leaves the man where he’s standing still in the alley. 

When Hotch is done with his patrol, he goes straight back to Penelope’s apartment. His favorite thing about their apartment building was definitely how easy it is to sneak in and out of it in his costume. Half the tenants locked their doors for the night by ten o’clock. No one ever notices anything. 

He is still worried about Penelope. He had told her before that his plan was to return after patrol. He enters and finds Penelope sitting on the couch with her legs crossed. She is balancing her rarely used laptop on one thigh and an open book on the other.

“What are you working on?” Hotch asks, pulling off his mask. 

Penelope looks up from his computer, seemingly caught off guard. Odds are she didn’t notice Hotch coming in. “Oh, I was, uh, well… I started doing some research but then… I started thinking about- Do you remember that TV show we used to watch when Rossi and Gideon left us at home because they didn’t want us joining them for certain missions?

“I, well I couldn’t remember the show, but like, I remembered watching it. So I tried to find it online. Except all my searches were really vague. But then I wound up on Wikipedia, so I’ve been doing that for a while.” 

Hotch nods. “What page are you on?”

“Did you know that if you only click on the first link on each page, not counting what’s in parentheses about pronunciation, you’ll always wind up on the philosophy page?”

“You’re reading about philosophy?”

“No, this is the page for a Three Stooges movie.”

Hotch shrugs and drops onto the recliner, leaving Penelope to her laptop.

“There’s a new guy out there, y’know,” Hotch says after resting for a few minutes.

Penelope looks caught off guard again as she looks up at Hotch. “Did you order takeout?”

“What? No,” Hotch’s train of thought is thrown off by the sudden shift in subjects.

“Can we? I’ve been craving Thai food. The Thai place delivers this late, right?”

“Sure, but listen first, earlier tonight I met a new guy in a costume.” 

“Let’s order first.” Penelope sets her laptop and book to her side, getting up off the couch. “What do you want?” She asks once he returns from the kitchen with a takeout menu.

“Some green curry.”

Penelope nods and mumbles ‘green curry’ under her breath a few times to get it to set in, and she grabs her landline to call the restaurant. 

“Oh, when the delivery guy shows up should I answer the door with that eye prosthetic I’ve been working on? Try and spook him into dropping the food and running before we pay?”

“Penelope, Charlie’s seen you with basically all of your creepy experiments,” Hotch answers, rubbing his eyes.

“But you said there’s a new guy?”

Hotch’s brows knit together, waiting before he responds.

Penelope notices Hotch’s subtle frustration. “I mixed something up, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, I meant a new guy in a costume. He startled a kid spray painting the side of that deli on Martin Street when he was trying to sneak up on him.”

“A new hero?”

Hotch sighs. “Some _kid_ thinking he’s a hero,” he says like he is correcting Penelope’s phrasing.

“Children fighting crime? Those are just the worst.” Penelope quips. She’s got half a smile on her face, trying not to look too happy with her joke. Hotch smiles lazily and gives a soft, breathy chuckle; Penelope grins to herself. 

“Whatever, just go ahead and order some food.” Hotch stretches and stands and wanders to Penelope’s bedroom to find a change of clothes. 

“Right,” Her voice trails off as he glances around for the menu she set down next to the landline. “What did you want again?” She calls out down the hall. 

“Green curry!” 

;;

“Anywhere, in particular, you want to go?” 

“Is there still a Krispy Kreme in town? When I go out, it’s usually only to the same four or five neighborhoods.”

“Uh, yeah, there should be. I don’t know where though. I’ll look it up,” Hotch pulls out his phone and begins typing into a search engine.

“Oh, and you said there was a cool shop by the laundromat? Was that place any good?” Penelope is looking around at the buildings, almost like a tourist from a small town visiting a big city for the first time. “Do they only sell records? Because I don’t think either of us owns a record player.” 

Hotch’s phone begins to spout out the directions to the closest Krispy Kreme. “There were books and movies too. As for music, I think I saw some CDs on my way out the last time I was in there, but I wasn’t paying a lot of attention because of what happened just before I did.”

Penelope is silent in response. “What happened? Sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Hotch waves his hand dismissively.

The two of them slowly walk through the city toward the donut shop. Penelope’s last major panic attack happened almost two weeks ago. Hotch had suggested that the two of them just go out and spend a day out of the apartment building, with no schedules or routine. Just the two of them being civilians and walking around town. Penelope was not totally thrilled over this idea and continually postponed it. 

While she does not keep to a strict routine like Hotch or even plan out her tasks day by day, the prospect of being out in public without a plan has Penelope nervous. She has spent the last seven years recovering and working to feel just _alright_. Alright with being on her own for more than one night. Alright with thinking about Rossi. Alright with Hotch beginning to suit up again and working without a partner. She just wants to fucking feel alright. 

And Hotch knows that being out in public for more than an hour or two is almost more effort than Penelope is sure she can expend. 

But Hotch thinks this can help. So Penelope is doing her best. Hotch watches as she tenses if there are too many people within a few feet of her. It’s not a particularly chilly day. There are so few clouds in the sky that the pavement reflects some warmth back up, but still every few minutes Penelope is almost reflexively tugging her homemade sweater a little tighter. Hotch doesn’t like to think of Penelope as vulnerable. He has seen her at the top of her game and knows all she is capable of, but he also can’t deny the behavior he’s observed. 

He suggests buying a dozen donuts or maybe two dozen so they can have plenty to eat at home later. Penelope likes the idea but she reminds Hotch that neither of them eats sweets regularly and neither of them would want to carry the boxes around for the rest of the day. So they each just order one donut and leave to continue wandering around the city. 

Penelope spots a pet store and jokingly suggests going in before she begins to physically pull Hotch through the door. They spend roughly forty minutes going from pen to pen and looking at each animal that gives them the time of day. 

After Hotch finally convinces Penelope to leave the pet store, he asks if Penelope still wants to check out that book store Hotch found the other week. 

“Yeah, let’s each buy a CD for each other. See if I can find something you’ll like, you do the same.” 

“This isn’t a date, Penelope.” 

“What do you mean it isn’t?”

“Shut up, Garcia.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to date me?” Penelope stops walking. 

Hotch rolls his eyes and keeps walking. 

“I thought we had something special!” Penelope calls out before jogging to catch up with Hotch’s fast-paced walking. 

“Oh my god,” Hotch groans under his breath. 

They turn a corner and Hotch notices some graffiti on a stretch of a brick wall across the street. It’s small, roughly the size of a basketball. But it is vibrant against the dirty bricks. Whoever painted it covered the brick with a silver patch first before stenciling over it with black and orange to make a stylized E. Hotch tries to look away, but it has been so long since he’s seen that emblem. He’s suddenly not walking down Broad Street. 

\---

 _Aaron was nervous. Excited, but nervous. Up until now, all he had known about fighting crime was what he practiced in his training with Gideon. He had been on patrol with him plenty of times, but so far nothing exciting had come up. And whenever Gideon did find somewhere to intervene, he strictly instructed Hotch to observe and learn. But now he was actually going to go out with her, for real this time. Well, not_ out _exactly._

 _They were actually going to meet up with Engine and his sidekick._ The _Engine! Hotch could not wait._

_“So who is it we are trying to track down exactly?” Aaron asked from the back seat of Gideon’s car. They were traveling in their civilian clothing in a nondescript sedan. Aaron tried to convince Gideon that he could sit in the passenger seat, but he was still eleven._

_“There has been a string of killings over the past three months. At first, they all seemed like random, unconnected murders. Different areas of town, wildly varied victimology. It wasn’t until I was talking to Rossi, he has been investigating a drug ring and one high-level dealer has started working out of a gay club, he noticed one of the victims on the security tapes. He looked for the other victims and each of them had been to the club at least once before they were killed. We analyzed the footage, and narrowed down our list of suspects to the man we’re tracking now.”_

_“You mean it’s just some guy?” Aaron asked, disappointment clear in his tone. “I thought we were gonna be hunting down some high profile supervillain. Like a serious bad guy.”_

_Gideon’s eyes met Aaron’s through the rearview mirror, he hadn’t even said a word and Aaron was already shrinking under his gaze. “This_ is _a serious bad guy, Aaron. Whoever they are they’ve killed four people. I know you’re excited to do good and put away villains, but you need to understand that if you’re going to dedicate yourself to helping the city that means trying to stop anyone from hurting others. It’s not up to you to decide who is worth stopping based on their name recognition.”_

_“Right, sorry.”_

_“Don’t worry, I know you’re eager. That’s a good thing, you just have to direct it toward the right methodology.”_

_Gideon soon had the car parked in front of an old house one would usually drive past without giving a second glance. Aaron had to stop himself from making another comment about how he hoped Engine’s home/base would look more cutting edge. After all, he and Gideon lived in a house not too different just outside of the city._

_Gideon let himself in and as soon as Aaron walked through the front door, he took back whatever he thought about this house being average. Everywhere he looked, there was tech._

_There were screens, and circuit boards, and inventions Hotch couldn’t begin to name._

_“Dave? Where are you?” Gideon called out._

_“In here!” A muffled voice shouted from down the hall._

_Aaron followed Gideon closely as he walked through the house. They entered a room and Hotch had to contain himself as it fully dawned on him he was seconds away from meeting Engine._

_He was sitting at a desk, wearing goggles as he worked on a circuit board. There was a young girl standing next to him, looking over his shoulder. She looked a little taller than Hotch, but not older. Gideon had mentioned that Rossi also had a ward that he had taken in. Apparently, she had a natural talent for technology that already rivaled Rossi’s._

_Rossi pushed his goggles off of his face so they rested on top of his head. He turned around in his chair but didn’t stand. “Hello, you must be Aaron.” Was the first thing out of his mouth. He was looking directly at Aaron, holding his hand out for him to shake._

_Aaron was speechless as he shook his hand with a goofy smile. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to call him Rossi or if he should stick to calling him Engine._

_Rossi turned back to the girl standing next to him. “Uh, Penelope. Why don’t you take Aaron to your room for a bit? Jason and I need to talk about something before we start tracking our suspects through the security cams. We’ll call for you when we’re done.”_

_Penelope nodded and motioned for Aaron to follow her out of the room and down the hall. Penelope’s room was a lot like the rest of the house. There was a desk with a dual monitor setup, another desk covered in graph paper, pens, and half-finished projects, weird gadgets and tools were all around the walls, hanging on hooks with their shape outlined behind them. The only thing marking this room as any different was the fact the tools were ROYGBIV color-coded and the small bed in the corner has several stuffed animals sitting atop the floral bedspread._

_“You’re pretty organized for a kid,” Aaron said, picking up something that looked like a violet screwdriver off of a hook._

_“You say that like you aren’t a kid,” Penelope replied from where she was sitting on the bed. “How old are you?”_

_“I just turned eleven. What about you?”_

_“I’m gonna be ten in a couple of days.”_

_“So you’re_ really _organized for a kid.” Aaron shot back with a smirk, setting the screwdriver-thing on the desk closest to him._

_“Stop calling me a kid.” Penelope stood from her bed to grab whatever Aaron had been messing with and put it back in its rightful place on the wall._

_“But you are a kid. We’re both kids.”_

_“Whatever.”_

_Aaron kept looking around the room, trying to figure out more about Penelope. But the room was so tidy and all the gadgets so impersonal, Hotch was drawing a blank. He resorted to picking things up and asking Penelope about them directly._

_Except Penelope did not like Aaron handling her things. “Please stop moving stuff around. Just sit down.” Her tone reminded Aaron of Gideon whenever he tried to talk to him as an eleven-year-old and not his crime-fighting protégé. Awkward, but clearly trying to be relatable._

_Aaron took a seat at the desk with the computer. “So what is this for? Why do you need two screens?”_

_Penelope’s eyes brightened, clearly excited to explain. “This is how I help Dave. While he is out, I use this to keep an eye on stuff. I can get into just about any camera or computer system in the city. He made these communicators that we use so I can warn him of what’s going on around him that he can’t see. Obviously, he knows how to hack even more things than I do, but this way he can focus more on what’s right in front of him.”_

_“You’re a watchtower,” Aaron said, impressed by Penelope’s claims._

_“Yeah, at least, until Dace thinks I’m old enough to go into the field with him.”_

_“Ugh! I’m still trying to get Gideon to let me. So far all he lets me do is ‘observe’. I don’t really get to do anything!”_

_“Penelope! Aaron!” Gideon’s voice interrupted, prompting both kids to race out of the room and back down the hall._

_The group spent hours tracking their subject through a facial recognition algorithm created by Rossi and Penelope. They were able to locate his address, workplace, and frequented areas._

_“Penelope, pull up the active feed on 301 Capitol Avenue,” Rossi ordered._

_“On it,” Penelope answered from her position at a desktop next to Rossi’s setup._

_Soon they were able to exact his location and Rossi and Gideon were suiting up. Aaron had tried to cajole Gideon into letting him join them, but Gideon denied him firmly._

_So Aaron and Penelope were left alone, instructed to stay put and pay attention to Rossi and Gideon on the communicators._

_“Staying put is so boring! I can’t believe they don’t think we’re ready to suit up.” Aaron complained, pacing around the kitchen since it was the only room without wall-to-wall technology and he was getting tired of Penelope telling him to stop moving things around._

_“Wait, so you actually have a suit?” Penelope was sitting at the kitchen island, her chin resting on his hands._

_“Yeah, don’t you?”_

_“Not exactly. I mean, I have plans for one. I’ve drawn some stuff up.”_

_“Yeah? What are you gonna call yourself?” Aaron asked, excited to find a topic to sufficiently distract him._

_“I haven’t decided yet,” Penelope said shyly._

_“Well, you gotta come up with something! You can’t just be That Kid Who’s Always With Engine.”_

_“What’s yours?” Penelope raised an eyebrow. “What are you gonna be called?”_

_“I’m Dagger. Because Gideon is Cloak. So we’re Cloak and Dagger. Get it?”_

_“No,” Penelope answered after a beat._

_“Whatever. Let’s come up with a name for you! Show me what you’ve drawn up!”_

_Penelope smiled and hopped down from the stool and moved quickly to retrieve a graph paper notebook from her room._

_Aaron tried to peek at the other pages as Penelope flipped through his sketches. Penelope opened his notebook to a two-page spread full of sketches of different parts of a super suit. Rossi’s Engine armor was clearly the influence. The costume sketches looked high tech and heavy-duty but still light and slim. There’s a rough sketch of the stylized black and orange E emblem that Rossi wears over his heart on his suit with a similarly stylized P right next to it._

_“Are you gonna use that P logo?” Aaron asked as he pointed to it._

_“No, I just drew that for fun.”_

_“So have you brainstormed_ any _names?”_

_Penelope just shook her head._

_“Okay, so let’s think. It should be kind of tech-themed, like Engine.”_

_The boys both sat silently as they brainstormed._

_“What about… um… Circuit Breaker?” Penelope said, unsure._

_“Eh, I don’t think so. It’s kind of long. And really nerdy.”_

_“Shut up. At least I’m thinking of stuff.”_

_“Okay, okay, how about Techno?”_

_Penelope gave Aaron a disbelieving glare. “Seriously? Isn’t that a type of music?”_

_“Probably.” Aaron shrugged._

_“I can’t use that!”_

_“Sure you can. You’ll scare off criminals with your powerful basslines!”_

_“Engine and Techno? No.” Penelope said._

_“Okay, well, maybe not something technological then. What about something else to base it on? Something you do a lot or something you’re good at.”_

_“I don’t know, Aaron.”_

_“You’re going to need a name eventually. Why not have it ready now?” Aaron argued. “Gideon mentioned you’re really good at hacking and keeping everything you and Rossi do secret and untraceable, Ms. Mystery.”_

_“I’m not a circus act!” Penelope rolled her eyes. “But, I mean, lately I have been working on writing codes and ciphers…”_

_“Cipher has a cool ring to it. You could spell it C-Y-P-H-E-R.”_

_“Oh, I like that!” Penelope grins. “I think I already have some ideas for an emblem!” She stood to find a pen, a glitter one Aaron notes, before flipping to a new page in the notebook to begin sketching._

_“Nice! Make sure it’s black and orange and cool just like Engine’s.”_

\---

Hotch shakes his head, feeling similar to how he did in the book shop. But rather than a phantom pain in his shoulder, he feels an empty sensation in his chest. He glances at Penelope, desperately hoping that she hasn’t noticed the graffiti. As far as Hotch can tell, Penelope is too busy reading the poster for some play that a local playhouse is putting on. Hotch grabs her attention, trying to urge her to hurry up, citing some bullshit excuse about making it to the book shop before lunchtime. 

“What happened to the ‘no schedules’ rule?” 

“I’m hungry. That’s what happened.” Hotch lies and he knows Penelope can tell. 

Hotch tries to keep walking, hoping Penelope will follow but he doesn’t hear footsteps behind him. He turns around to find Penelope standing stock-still. She has a faraway look in her eyes, her gaze is fixed across the street, but Hotch can tell it isn’t focused. 

“Penelope?”

“That’s… Engine… right?” She asks, not looking away from the graffiti across the street. Hotch can hear just how uncertain Penelope is, and it almost breaks Hotch. 

“Yeah,”

“I haven’t… I haven’t seen it. I can’t remember the last time I saw it.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Penelope pulls out her cellphone and holds it up to take a picture of the graffiti. “I kind of want to put it up on my wall at home.” 

Hotch nods, making a note to himself to help remind Penelope to do that when they return to the apartments, just in case. Penelope takes a few pictures before placing her phone back in her pocket and turning to Hotch. 

“Come on, let’s go to the record shop. We can do that sappy date idea you had.” Hotch suggests, a smile on his face. 

Penelope laughs and shoves Hotch’s shoulder. “I knew you had a crush on me.” 

They turn a corner and cross a street, approaching the book shop. The store is even busier than the last time Hotch had visited. People are browsing shelves, chatting and drinking coffee, two friends are dancing subtly to the music playing over the store’s speakers. There’s a different cashier manning the register by the door. The man Hotch had seen last time is walking around the lounge area in the back, chatting with customers. There is one other person, a woman, with a name tag meticulously organizing a display shelf. 

“Oh, they do have CDs!” Penelope says and walks over to the shelves by the register. Hotch follows.

While Penelope squats down to get a closer look at whatever caught her eye, Hotch steps over to a different shelf and keeps Penelope’s music taste in mind. 

“Are you looking for something in particular?” 

Hotch looks up and the employee that had been chatting with customers is standing right next to him. His nametag has the name ‘Spencer’ scrawled in permanent marker under a printed out label of the store’s name. As Hotch takes in his features, he realizes he’s seen this face outside of this record shop. 

Hotch feels like he has been too lax in his day of being a civilian. It takes him a moment to make the connection that this is the same kid he stopped from getting mugged a few weeks ago.

“Kind of, but I don’t see how anyone can find anything,” Hotch responds, eyeing the shelves of haphazardly organized records. 

Hotch notices as Spencer hesitates, his eyes widen a fraction, but Hotch can’t figure out why. 

“Um, yeah, JJ’s got this thing with the secondhand items about not wanting customers to immediately find what they usually listen to or read. Says this way, they have to look around and ‘discover new music’. Our new items are actually sorted properly, though that’s because JJ lets me organize those. But Kevin and I have figured out where most stuff is with the donated shelves in case a customer is looking for something specific.” 

Hotch hums. “So if I’m looking for show tunes?” Hotch asks, thinking back to music Penelope would play when the two of them would hang out as teenagers. 

Spencer pauses before looking over to another section across the store. “Well if you want vinyl I can show you a few new and secondhand. But if you want a CD, we don’t carry new CDs, just ones that have been donated. So in that case your best bet is the shelf by our espresso machine.”

“And if I’m looking for The Stone Roses?” 

Spencer pauses for a longer moment. “I can’t promise it hasn’t been bought, but I am certain that I’ve seen Second Coming over there too,” Spencer says with a smile. 

“Spencer!” A voice calls out across the store, pulling Spencer’s attention away from Hotch. “Stop flirting with customers, I need you in the back for a minute!” 

Hotch raises an eyebrow, especially since Spencer blushes at his boss’s words. “Uh, let me know if you need help finding anything else.” He blurts out, it’s clearly something he’s used to saying to customers before he turns and quickly walks to the store’s back office. 

Hotch wanders to the CD sections Spencer directed him to and browses for the right albums. He manages to find both The Stone Roses and the soundtrack to the Heathers musical. He quickly brings them to the register to pay before he finds Penelope still looking among the shelves. 

“Found anything yet?” Hotch asks.

Penelope looks up and frowns. “No, and you aren’t supposed to see what I pick until after I find it. Go wait around somewhere else!” 

Hotch rolls his eyes and goes to sit on one of the couches in the back, stopping himself from watching Penelope. He dicks around on his phone while he waits. 

“Hey, um,” Hotch hears a voice and immediately identifies it as Spencer the shop employee before he looks up from his phone. The other man’s words trail off, probably in hopes of learning Hotch’s name. 

“Aaron,” Hotch obliges. “But, uh, you can call me Hotch.”

“Hotch, sorry for my boss. She’s also, like, my best friend so she loves trying to embarrass me.” 

“No worries,” Hotch speaks over Spencer, hoping to ease the obvious anxiety he is showing. 

Spencer huffs out an unamused laugh, though there is a smile on his face; it’s genuine. “I still have a lot I need to get done, but I was hoping you could come back, maybe later tonight? I’d love to talk with you.” 

Hotch is confused. “Come back here?” 

“Oh, well, no. It doesn’t have to be here. There’s a cafe/coffee shop place that is open twenty-four hours just a couple of blocks away. Called Cafe 710. Could we talk there?” 

“Talk?” 

“Yeah, it’s just… I would-”

“Spencer! Could you come over here for a second?” The other employee, Kevin, calls out from where he is trying to help a teenager check out a couple of records, but by his expression, Hotch can tell he is having trouble with something in the process. Hotch sees Penelope standing near the door, a bag already in her hand. 

Spencer’s face drops. He motions to Kevin to wait just a minute. 

“No, go ahead. I’ll be there.” Hotch says before Spencer can try and finish. “The coffee shop down the street. Eight sound good?” 

“The store closes at eight, and I have to help with inventory and lock up so ten would work better. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Ten works. See you then.” Hotch returns the smile that Spencer gives him before he walks away to help his co-worker. 

Hotch nudges Penelope on his way out the door, not stopping as he hears Penelope’s footsteps fall in behind him. 

“So what did you get me?” Hotch asks, steering their direction back toward their apartment building. 

“Oh yeah.” Penelope looks down into her bag. She holds it out for Hotch to take and Hotch passes his bag to Penelope. 

“Ooh,” Hotch hears Penelope say as he digs two CDs from the generically designed plastic bag. 

In Hotch’s the one on top is The Beatles’ _Help!_. Hotch smiles. He wasn’t sure if it was why Penelope thought to choose this CD, but he still remembered one of the first albums he bought was The Beatles’ white album; it had been in a run-down thrift shop when he was nine and thought he was cool because he listened to classic rock on his very own personal, portable CD player. 

The other album is Britney Spears’ _...Baby One More Time_. Hotch is not sure why Penelope picked this out specifically for him, but he is not concerned with it. Especially since Penelope is satisfied with his choices. 

Hotch isn’t sure about Penelope, but when he gets back to his own apartment, the first thing he does is set up his old stereo.


	3. Chapter 3

Hotch shows up at the coffee shop at 9:53. Spencer from the book shop is already there. He is talking to a barista with a nametag identifying herself as Emily. 

“Hey,” Hotch calls as he approaches the small table, wanting to alert Spencer he had arrived rather than waiting till he stood right over him. Not that it helps, Spencer startles and looks over to Hotch. He looks starstruck as Hotch takes a seat across from him. He raises an eyebrow as Spencer stays silent. 

Spencer seems to realize he ought to say something. He quickly turns to Emily, Hotch can tell that the two are close. Or, at least, Spencer frequents this cafe enough to know the staff well. Hotch makes sure to stop observing too closely as Spencer turns back to face him. 

“Do you want anything?

“Some English breakfast tea? If you’ve got it.” 

“How do you want it?” Emily asks.

“Just milk. No sugar.” 

“And Spencer, do you want your usual?” 

“Yes. Thanks, Emily.” 

Hotch notices Spencer watch Emily walk away before he tries to start up some small talk with Hotch. Spencer’s waiting until after Emily delivers their drink to actually talk to Hotch about whatever he is planning to say.

But Hotch is impatient. 

“How long has ‘Blackbird Books’ been around?” He tries initiating some small talk. 

Spencer is, for some reason, thrown off by Hotch’s question. Hotch is still trying to work out why Spencer cannot seem to relax. 

“Four years; JJ’s wanted to open some sort of book store since he was in high school. I worked with her to help out, and so I would have a second job while I was in school. After I graduated, uh… financially I had to leave the internship I had and I’ve been working with JJ full time to save up some money.”

Hotch nods.

“Where do you work?” Spencer asks, almost eager. 

“I am… self-employed,” Hotch says quickly. “My friend and I run a sort of private investigation-type business.” Hotch has never had to describe what he does to anyone, let alone a civilian he’s only just met. He figures a private investigation firm is close enough to the truth, and if someone asked too many questions he could simply tell them the information was classified. 

Spencer’s eyes narrow, but Emily returns to their table. 

“One tea; milk, no sugar. And a black coffee, two sugars, _decaf_.” She sets down each drink as she announces it. “Are you two talking about his superhero shit?” She asks Hotch. 

“What?” Hotch asks the same time Spencer does. The mirrored, rattled echo of their voices fills the cafe. 

“Some movie or rock opera or whatever he has been trying to start.” 

Hotch feels his heart rate settle, but he is still confused. 

“Oh my god, Emily, please go away.” Spencer moans.

Emily shrugs and returns to her place behind the counter. 

“Rock opera?” Hotch intones, a slight smile on his lips. 

“Um, yeah that was an excuse I gave her when I might have had a mild concussion and accidentally told her.” 

“Told her?” 

“About… y’know…” Spencer wraps his hands around his mug, not making eye contact with Hotch. 

Hotch does not say anything. 

“Are you gonna make me say it out loud?” Spencer asks as he finally looks up. 

“Maybe you should,” Hotch counter. He may be practiced in detection and observation, but that doesn’t make him a psychic. 

“Superhero shit! It’s the whole reason I asked you to meet me here.” Spencer drops his voice a bit.

Hotch narrows his eyes. A small part of him is feeling somewhat disappointed, and embarrassed since he had assumed Spencer had invited him here for some sort of impromptu date. But he ignores that part of himself because he is primarily suspicious of the point Spencer is trying to make. 

“I know,” Spencer pauses to look around before leaning in closer to Hotch and whispering. “I know you’re Dagger, okay.” 

Hotch freezes. He refuses to respond, waiting for Spencer to decide what to do. All Hotch can do is keep his expression as neutral as possible, he makes sure to position his eyebrows just right so he looks confused, but not worried. He’s become a master actor over his years, he likes to think. 

Spencer looks at Hotch expectantly, like he is doing the same thing, but soon enough he caves and explains further. “I only figured it out when you came into the shop today. After I asked you if you needed help, I knew I had heard your voice before. I mean, I know you weren't particularly chatty but I _knew_ that voice. And, I mean, private investigation business? Come on.” 

That doesn’t make any sense, Hotch thinks to himself. Even if Spencer has a strong memory for people’s voices, that had been weeks ago. Hotch’s mind races as he tries to understand how Spencer could have deduced his identity. Suddenly, like puzzle pieces sliding together, Hotch is visualizing Spencer’s body type, mannerisms, and movements. His mind replays the scene he saw from that rooftop when he discovered some mugger holding a knife to a kid’s throat. 

\---

_Hotch’s earpiece had been fairly dead. If it weren’t for the constant hum of all the noise that wasn’t his concern, he would be worried it stopped working. When he hears a pained gasp followed by a gruff demand for someone’s wallet, he’s almost excited just for something to do._

_He easily found the scene, a mugger had a man, some kid no older than Penelope, pinned against the wall of an alleyway. The mugger had a knife and was holding it to his victim’s throat, but that was his only weapon. He probably relied too heavily on his own size and strength to bother carrying anything else. Hotch could use that arrogance._

_He began to laugh softly, knowing it would throw the mugger off and take his attention away from the kid. Still camouflaged by the shadows of the poorly lit alley, he laughed again when he saw just how easily the mugger lost his composure. Hotch missed that trick, he has done it less and less ever since he had begun to patrol alone._

_Hotch had just mapped out his descent and how he would pull the mugger away from the kid._

_But before he leaped down, the mugger was sent across the alley. Hotch couldn’t believe he had not seen what force pushed him that hard and that far. And the kid’s arms were held out in front of him._

\---

“Oh my god, you’re that idiot that fucked up trying to apprehend a graffiti artist,” Hotch says, not even caring that this response confirms Spencer’s deduction that he is Dagger. 

Spencer looks absolutely affronted. “I didn’t do anything!” 

“Oh, you did plenty. The kid heard you. He was ready to run before you were in arms’ reach.”

“I could have caught him if you hadn’t dropped out of the sky just to berate me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you lie awake at night for letting that tagger run free.” Hotch deadpans.

Spencer takes a deep breath, inhaling sharply through his nose and quickly blowing the air out past his lips. “Look, I know I’m new to all of.. this,” He gestures vaguely. “But I’m trying, and I would appreciate it if you weren’t such a dick about it.” 

“Why? Why are you so eager to do this? It’s a shit job if there ever was one.” Hotch asks, feeling angry but he isn’t sure why. 

“If it’s such a shitty job, why are you still Dagger?” Spencer asks, and Hotch is surprised that the question is genuinely curious and not accusatory. He still does not answer it, however. Just because Spencer deduced Hotch’s identity does not mean that Hotch will reveal anything else to him.

Spencer must sense Hotch’s refusal to answer and continues. “If I know I’m able to help, why shouldn’t I?” Spencer says, looking at Hotch expectantly. Hotch almost rolls his eyes.

“When I asked you to meet me here, I had hoped for, ideally, something like a mentor or just some fucking advice.” Spencer spits out.

“I already gave you all the advice you need. Stop whatever you think you’re trying to do, and go home. Still want a mentor to show you how to do that?” Hotch stands and pulls out his wallet to leave enough bills to cover his unfinished tea and to tip Emily. “Just watch what I do.” He says with more bite than necessary before he leaves the cafe.

Hotch is not wearing his earpiece, so he can’t hear if Spencer is still in the cafe or if he has left too. Hotch turns a corner almost a block away from the cafe but there is a figure standing in his path. They are clearly trying to block him, two arms reach out toward Hotch. 

Hotch moves automatically. He latches his hand onto this person’s left arm, just above their elbow, and as swiftly as he can he twists the arm with a sharp torque. He ignores the shout of protest as he pins the man’s arm behind his back and shoves the would-be-assailant against the brick wall closest to them. 

But Hotch is suddenly pushed back, the elbow he had held down suddenly shoving back with no effort. Hotch only barely manages to stay on his feet. He keeps his body on alert, ready for any retaliation from them. There is none. 

Hotch keeps his stance as the man turns around slowly. 

When Hotch sees Spencer’s face, he almost punches him.

“What the fuck?” He half shouts.

“I have been _trying_ to tell you!” Spencer looks away from Hotch and glances up and down the street. Suddenly, he grabs Hotch’s arm and easily pulls him into the alley. 

Now, Hotch knows he’s not the biggest or bulkiest guy around, but he is certain he should not be so easily moved around single-handedly. Especially by someone that looks like Spencer. 

“How—?” Hotch starts, but Spencer cuts him off. 

“No. Just, shut up for a minute,” Spencer commands. “I have been trying to explain all of this to you since that night that guy almost mugged me. And if you had actually fucking talked to me instead of being a professional asshole, I would have been able to tell you, but no,” He drawls, sarcasm dripping off of his words. “I’m just some idiot kid playing hero in his cape and tights!”

“Okay, okay, fine! I get it! I meant what I said about taking up a role like this is a terrible idea, but I’m sorry for belittling you. Happy?” 

“You’re unbelievable,” Spencer says before he disappears from Hotch’s sight. Hotch is not totally sure if Spencer can teleport or just move so quickly that Hotch’s eyes can’t adjust in time to see him move. Hotch makes a note to himself to ask Penelope if there is a way to make goggles or a monitor that can help with that the same way his earpiece enhances his hearing. 

_Shit,_ Hotch thinks. 

Penelope is going to love to hear about this. Hotch told Penelope about Spencer asking to talk with him and she had teased Hotch that it was a date. She is never going to let Hotch hear the end of it when he learns that it wasn’t a date at all, just a new superhero all too easily deducing Hotch’s identity and trying to become his mentee. Penelope’s going to say sidekick, Hotch can just tell. 

Hotch goes straight to his apartment. He avoids the text from Penelope he gets asking _’howww is the D8? 8===D???? (thats D8 backwards) <3 ;)’_. 

;;

“Wait, so he’s got powers?” Penelope asks. She’s sitting on Hotch’s couch and eating from a bowl of popcorn. 

“Yup,” Hotch answers from where he is setting up his DVD player. Penelope had been in a good place ever since the two of them started going out to do unplanned civilian things every other week. So Hotch has been subtly trying to incorporate more civilian-type activities when they aren’t out too. He doesn’t think he’s very good at it. Last week he bought some premade cookie dough for the two of them to bake, but Penelope forgot what temperature to set the oven to and Hotch’s timer broke. The snowman design that came ready on each sugar cookie wound up disappearing under a black char. 

But a movie night seemed hard to mess up. “He can either teleport, or he has enhanced speed, and he’s definitely super strong.” 

“Oh?” Penelope asks, and Hotch does not have to turn around to know her eyebrows are waggling. “Did he give you a demonstration?” 

“Fuck off, I’ve already told you it wasn’t a date.” 

“Sure, sure,” 

“Shut up. Do you think you’d be able to make some sort of mechanism that let me see his movements even if he does have superhuman speed?” 

“No idea, man. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with a feature like that. I’ve never dealt with a speedster.”

“What about Elle?” Hotch turns around. 

Elle, also known as Prowess, was one of Rossi and Gideon’s closest fellow heroes. She was a part of a minuscule portion of the population that exhibited super abilities, in her case those were her strength, speed, and flight. When a situation demanded, Gideon as Cloak, Rossi as Engine, Elle as Prowess would team up in order to handle it. There were other heroes around the country, some with powers, some without, that would join them occasionally. There was an entire network internationally. But Hotch and Penelope had only met those heroes closest and most trusted by Gideon and Rossi.

By the time Hotch and Penelope were old enough to be considered heroes themselves, rather than simply sidekicks, there wasn’t much left of those networks. Some retired, others were too injured to continue, even more, were killed. 

“I never had to fight Elle!” Penelope defends herself. “And thank the lord for that.”

“I don’t want them so I can fight this guy. I just don’t like him having this advantage.” Hotch stands when the television begins to play the previews set on the disc he just put in. He sits next to Penelope and takes the popcorn bowl. 

Penelope shrugs as she reaches to grab a handful of popcorn. “Remind me to look into it and I’ll see what I can do… What movie did you pick, again?” 

“The Princess Bride.”

;;

Spencer can feel his eyelids threatening to drop. He is seriously considering just flat out begging Kevin to come in and cover the rest of his shift. Ever since he finally got to talk with Dagger, with Hotch, his mood has been shit. 

It has been a slow day for the shop. A few regulars came in earlier to see if there were any new arrivals, and there are a few groups of students from the community college sitting in the lounge area as they pour over flashcards for finals week. 

A customer approaches the register with a stack of books in her arms and he shifts into his customer service voice as he rings up her purchase, doing his best to map out how to chat idly about the weather. 

He slowly feels his exhaustion come back full force. The bell rings again and he looks up to see a new customer. It’s the woman he’d seen with Hotch. He does not know what their relationship is, but he knows they are close. She is very intriguing to Spencer, and not just because of her clothes.

Does she know that Hotch moonlights as a superhero? Spencer watches as she pulls a small Moleskine from her purse, shaped like an ice cream cone, but instead of writing in it, she reads something before returning the notebook to her bag and begins to browse the shelves. 

Spencer spends the next fifteen minutes just glancing from the happenings of the store to the clock on the far wall. An old woman approaches him to ask for help. Spencer gladly spends as much time with her as he can, listening to her try to describe the band she is interested in finding, offering trivia on whatever artist or author she mentions. 

His line of sight is pulled back to Hotch’s friend. She’s talking to Derek, JJ’s friend who helps with the renovation and contractor work. Spencer is pretty sure they are flirting.

When Hotch’s friend leaves the store, Derek quickly wraps up browsing the shelves. He doesn’t buy anything, but he does stop by the register to speak to Spencer. 

“Hey Pretty Boy,” Derek moves his hand toward Spencer but abruptly brings it down and knocks his knuckles on the countertop. Spencer gives an appreciative half-wave. “Seeming pretty swamped. Is it just you today?”

Spencer nods. “Kevin’s got today off. And JJ’s been in the office all day budgeting. I haven’t seen her since opening.” 

“Ouch. Listen, send me a text if she’s still in there near closing. My day’s not too packed. I can swing by and help with inventory. You just make sure she eats something soon.” 

“Will do.” 

“It was good seeing you, kid.”

“Likewise… But, uh, before you go, if you don’t mind me asking, that woman you were talking to; is she a friend of yours?”

Derek smiles. “No, uh, no I just met her right now. I noticed her looking at a Nas album, so I asked her about her favorite track. Why?”

“She’s been here a couple of times before, I just wanted to know, um, if you knew her name.” Spencer stumbles through an explanation. 

“It was Penelope,” Derek says and his expression is neutral, but Spencer can see a smile creep onto Derek’s face as he utters the name. “I should really get going now. I’ll see ya.” Derek nods before leaving the store. 

Spencer looks back to the clock after the door closes behind Derek. He sighs as he realizes it had only been ten minutes since the last time he checked the time. 

;;

It is roughly a quarter till nine when there is a knock at the front door of the shop. Spencer looks up from where he is stocking bookshelves. Derek is waiting outside the glass door with his hands in his pockets. 

“JJ! Derek’s here!” Spencer calls out, speaking loud enough for JJ to hear him from her office. 

JJ comes out of her office and approaches the door to unlock it, letting Derek in before she re-locks it and makes sure the ‘Sorry, We’re Closed!’ sign is still in place. 

Spencer finishes shelving his current box of books as JJ directs Derek to new DVDs. 

He opens the next box and gets to work, drowning out Derek JJ’s small talk. 

With Derek, the work pace almost doubles. Once the stocking and resorting is finished, JJ and Derek sit in the lounge area to catch up and discuss any necessary touch-ups or repairs since JJ was too busy during store hours. Spencer goes to remove the register till and take it to the safe.

“Spence! You can sit down, you know.” JJ calls out. “What’s the rush? Inventory’s done. Let me handle counting the safe.” 

“Yeah, kid. No need to show off and count it all with just one peek.”

“That’s not h-” Spencer starts to say, but shakes his head. He knows it’s not worth it to correct him. After delivering the till to the back room, he sits down on the soft, overstuffed loveseat across from Derek. 

The conversation returns to repairs Derek can help with, but it quickly shifts to Derek teasing JJ over her crush on Emily from Cafe 710.

Spencer speaks up to provide some insight on how often JJ frequents the cafe, but before he can finish his point the lights in the store cut off. 

He wouldn’t have thought much of it being more than a surprise brownout. But when he looks out the window, he can see that the stores across the street still have their lights on. And the small stereo by the register stops playing Cyndi Lauper. It is battery powered and should not be affected. Spencer stands and immediately excuses himself to the back office. He checks the desktop computer, his laptop, and the timer for the safe. None of them are online. A small part of Spencer begins to panic. 

“What the fuck is going on?” JJ asks angrily. She joins Spencer in the office, holding her phone. The screen is black and remains that way even as she continues to press the power button. 

“I don’t know,” Spencer says as he fiddles with the desktop’s modem, hoping it will come back on. JJ continues to curse at her phone. They are both stopped short at the sound of glass shattering. JJ bolts out of the office and Spencer starts to follow her, but he stops and his eyes are drawn to his backpack. He knows he can move quickly enough to put on his costume. He is not sure if he needs it. When he hears a loud thump he forgoes the costume and exits the office. He stays hidden behind a shelf as he takes in the circumstances. 

There is a man dressed in dark blue with a welding mask covering his face and a backpack slung over his shoulder. He is standing by the register. The glass panel of the door is shattered, and Derek is lying on the floor, unconscious. JJ is next to him and begins to stir. 

Sparks crackle around the intruder’s fingertips and he moves his hand so, somehow, the register drawer pops open. 

When he finds that it is empty, he growls at JJ as she begins to sit up, wincing harshly. “Where’s the money?”

“Who’re you?” JJ slurs. 

The man shoots a surge of pure electricity from his hand, narrowly missing JJ’s head and singeing the floor behind her. 

“The money! Where is it? Where’s your safe?” 

Spencer can’t risk the robber further losing his temper and seriously injuring JJ. 

He runs across the store to the man, getting there in an instant. He grasps his wrist, holding it up so it is not aimed at JJ or Derek.

“You need to leave.” Spencer bites out. 

The man twists his arm to wrench it out of Spencer’s grip. He is almost as quick as Spencer so Spencer barely has time to react before the palm of the man’s hand is on his chest. 

He is not pushed very hard, but the shove is doubled with a surge of electricity and sends Spencer crumpling to the floor. He thinks his heart skips a beat, or twelve, and his mouth tastes like burning metal. He groans as he staggers back to his feet, looking around for the robber, but his vision is blurred. 

Generally, Spencer’s enhanced senses allow him to figure out the layout of a room and the location of anyone present if he is unable to rely on his sight. He can primarily rely on his sense of smell, as everyone emits a distinct scent. But the entire store smells like ozone. And his ears are still ringing so his hearing is no help to him either. A thick wall of crackling electricity blocks Spencer’s senses.

He shuts his eyes as tight as he can and refocuses. The robber is breaking down the door to the backroom. Spencer runs over so that he is standing behind the other man but he is slower than usual. He grabs the man by his shirt. 

“You’re back up?! Huh, you’re stronger than you look, String Bean. That blow should have stopped your heart.” He says. Spencer’s grip tightens at the condescending tone. 

He feels the hairs on his arms tingle and begin to stand on end. The smell of ozone spikes and before he can be electrocuted again, he throws the man across the store. The front window shatters as the body flies through it. In the back of his mind, Spencer knows he will regret doing that, but he still feels sluggish both physically and mentally as he recovers. 

JJ is gonna kill him for further wrecking the storefront. 

With that thought, Spencer suddenly remembers that JJ and Derek are in the store. Two people who are in no way supposed to know about his powers. 

JJ is sitting on the floor where she had stayed down after the robber electrocuted Spencer. She is clutching her shoulder. She stops staring at Spencer when Derek begins to groan. They both rush over to see over him.

“JJ, I can expla-” Spencer starts. 

“If the insurance guys ask; you were laid out and we both watched as some mystery hero threw that dick through my window.” JJ cuts him off.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying.


End file.
